


don't take your guns to town

by kreestar



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Time Travel, Young Bruce Wayne, Young Jason Todd, Zero Year Arc (Gotham), but not really time travel..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kreestar/pseuds/kreestar
Summary: batman comes home from a night patrolling to find a 10 year old jason todd waiting for him in his kitchen. across gotham, at the same time, red hood is stopped by a 25 year old bruce wayne.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 337





	don't take your guns to town

**Author's Note:**

> the inspiration for 25 year-old bruce comes from scott snyder's zero year! i found young bruce's characterization to be so fascinating, and so incredibly similar to jason's during his first few years as a 'reformed' red hood. one thing lead to another, and there i went writing an elaborate sort of fix-it. 
> 
> generally set during rebirth - before red hood #25 (*shudders*), and before the trial of kate kane. 
> 
> this author has no idea how to write comicbook magic so everyone just deal with it! i make my own rules! 
> 
> finally, title from the song [don't take your guns to town](https://open.spotify.com/track/2yu1EtOOwrxFPkhXKJUHkT?si=bNm9qRPfQZefR8-bDH3chA) by johnny cash.

_ “How bad is this?” Batman growled. The Justice League was uncharacteristically quiet, until J’onn spoke up and said, _

_ “We’ll have all of this fixed in a matter of hours. Hopefully no longer than a day.” _

_ “And we have no idea how the time stream was altered by this?” _

_ “Not  _ yet _.” Clark says unhelpfully, but with that earnest smile that implied he was  _ trying _ to  be helpful. _

_ “So we’ll all just go back to our day-to-day lives, having literally no idea how Enchantress altered our universe, and just waiting until Barry and Zatanna can figure out a way to right it all again?” _

_ Silence again. Bruce stood from the table and began to leave lest he do something rash, like  _ flip _ the table.  _

_ “Well when you say it like  _ that _..” Jess muttered under her breath.  _

___

Bruce strips out of the cape and cowl as he moves through the cave. His mind, as usual, reels with strategy. He would attack the issue head-on if he only  _ knew _ what the issue was. Enchantress had made some insinuations to distorting time - which had Barry twitchy - but despite J’onn’s relentless efforts to figure out who or  _ what _ was displaced, they were as in the dark as they were hours ago. 

“Alfred.” Bruce calls as he walks through the library. He pulls on a black t-shirt and rubs his eyes, “Has there been any updates from the GCPD concerning time displaced criminals, and or-”

Bruce stops in his place. Alfred is standing on the threshold of the kitchen with a plate of food in his hand, looking more broken than Bruce has seen him in years. 

“Alfred.” Bruce says again. The older man swallows, very slowly, and shuts his eyes against a sudden budding of tears. Despite his years of training, Bruce’s heart begins to race. 

“He showed up… Looking for you.” Alfred says quietly. His eyes are imploring now - still watery and perhaps even desperate - but he at least looks more familiar to his usual brand of stoic. 

“Who showed up,” Bruce is now closer to the kitchen, slipping past Alfred, as the latter man suddenly hisses; 

“Please just give me more time with him.  _ Please _ , sir, then you can fix whatever cosmic mess caused this-”

Bruce is about to snap at him to come  _ out with it _ already, but it’s his turn to see the proverbial ghost. He feels his own body temperature drop, his heart stutter, his breath catch deep in his throat. 

Sitting at the kitchen island with his hands tapping away to some nonexistent beat, and his blue eyes wandering the room in their listless curiosity, was Jason. But he could hardly be older than Damian. 

His eyes land on Bruce’s - young wide eyes that look too big on his skinny face - and he suddenly has that half-smirk that was so genuine (and shockingly content for the angry young boy.) “‘Sup, B. Where’s Dickwad I thought he was comin’ home this weekend?” 

___

Jason had them cornered. More of Maroni’s men had been trying to rip off a local bodega for the sake of some indiscriminate ‘debt’ owed to them and lucky for both the bodega, and Jasons’ boredom, Red Hood was in the right place at the right time.

“C’mon, it’s not like a sandwich costs so much you gotta ruin that place for  _ everybody _ .” Jason says conversationally while dodging bullets. 

The fight itself lasts less than a few minutes, and Jason leaves the heaping pile of Gotham’s most unwanted next to a dumpster. He grins to himself, always one to appreciate a good analogy, when something hard and metal ricochets off the back of his head. He frowns, slowly turning to see a tall silhouette near the main road, and the fallen tire iron which had made as a weapon. 

“Well fuck you too, buddy.” He says incredulously - throwing his hands up and shrugging in confusion, “Sorry were these guys your pals? Because if so why don’t you come over here so I can put you to sleep with the rest of them-”

“Red Hood gang  _ scum!” _ The guy suddenly growls, and with pretty impressive speed, he rushes Jason and pins him to the ground. The rain and general lack of working street lamps makes it hard to make out the guys face, until a crack of lightning illuminates the alleyway and Jason nearly chokes on a gasp;

_ “Bruce?!” _

The man -  _ Bruce _ \- freezes from where he is above Jason. He quickly jumps to his feet and frowns, 

“No.” He says resolutely, in that uppity fucking voice that Jason would recognize anywhere. 

“The fuck do you mean  _ no _ , I know it’s you Bruce but…” Jason stands himself and narrows his eyes through the hood. Bruce looks… Different. His shoulders seem narrower, and his muscle mass hardly as built as it was when Jason saw him about a… Month ago. “Have you lost weight? Have you… Jesus have you gotten  _ botox? _ ” 

It’s not that Jason would be  _ surprised _ , per say, though he did always chalk Dick up to be the egomaniac of the ‘family’. 

“No I… Wait how do you know me? Who are you?” Bruce’s face changes. His anger becomes palpable. He rushes Jason again and pins him to a wall. He snarls in his face, “How would a _Red Hood_ know me-”

“Are you talking about the Red Hood gang from like… Almost 20 years ago? Bruce are you okay? Did someone mess with your head?” By now the computer in his hood has confirmed this mysterious Bruce was  _ the _ Bruce Wayne, but from the looks of the charts he quickly skims this man was no older than 25. “Was it Zatanna-”

“How do you know Zatanna!” Bruce shouts now. He’s bad at hiding the panic in his voice. 

“Oh my god is this some time stream  _ crap _ .” Jason groans, “This is totally some weird alternate universe shit, isn’t it? Alright well buckle up, little Bruce, it’s either I take you back home unconscious or you shut up and listen to me which… Heh.” Jason had to laugh at that one. As  _ if _ . 

“Home?” Bruce frowns, “I don’t  _ have _ a home.” 

“Oh don’t pull this emo crap, Bruce, I’m taking you to the manor-”

“That  _ manor _ ,” Bruce suddenly growls, his forearm digging further into Jason’s neck, “Is a museum for the dead, and for those who stand back in the past  _ with them _ . And besides, I’m a second from slitting your throat unless you explain how you know so much about me and my friends.” 

Jason has never seen this side of Bruce and he tries to refrain from laughing in his face. He lets a little chuckle slip which only further pisses Bruce off. 

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Jason holds his hands up in surrender, “Look you’ve been time displaced, man. We’re like over 15 years into the future from when you were… This.” He motions to Bruce in front of him who looks - for whatever reason - insulted. “Look I’ll take you to my apartment and we’ll get this sorted out. I’ll call…” Jason wracks his mind for someone to look after some overly-aggressive child version of Batman and came up with, “Dick.”

Bruce narrows his eyes, “Fuck you, too.” 

Jason blinks. 

“Dick  _ Grayson _ .” 

“My name is  _ Bruce. _ ”

“No you fucking… I’m gonna  _ call _ Dick  _ Grayson _ .”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me, Hood?” 

Jason shuts his eyes and groans, “Right… Right you haven’t met Dick yet, shit. Alright then, I’ll call Alfred-”

“If you so much as  _ speak his name again _ ,” Bruce is back at his throat. Squeezing and snarling and looking generally murderous, “I will rip your throat out-”

“Oh for God’s sake - just come to my apartment, idiot!” Jason squeaks under the pressure of Bruce’s hand on his throat, “You  _ know _ me, okay. In the future I’m your… I  _ know _ you, okay.” 

“ _ Why _ would I know a member of the Red Hood gang? You’re  _ nothing _ to me but my next victim.” 

_ Well, he isn’t necessarily wrong,  _ Jason thinks bitterly. Bruce has one hand on his throat and a fist cocked and ready to swing. Jason is about to be knocked out, and then it’ll be  _ his _ fault for letting little Bruce loose on the streets of future-Gotham. He curses under his breath, tensing for the blow, and then mutters under his breath ‘ _ Hood, up _ ’. 

The mask lifts, and the surprise factor is enough to make Bruce’s arm twitch in, what Jason assumes is, hesitation. His eyes, for just the briefest of seconds, show his sudden intrigue. 

“I’m… I’m your  _ son _ , okay?”  _ Right _ , Jason thinks,  _ just lie to him to get him to shut up. There’s no way the man I know will just let that confession slide.  _

Bruce punches him in the face. Jason feels like the world is playing some very cruel joke on him. 

“Nice try.” Bruce snarls, “But no son of mine would call me by my first name-”

“Oh you’re so  _ dense _ .” Jason coughs from the ground, “I was in my  _ hood _ ,  _ Bruce _ . I was fighting mobsters,  _ Bruce _ . You think it would be smart of me to just turn around and announce to the world my vigilante parent just joined the scene!” 

Bruce, at least, looks properly scolded. Jason narrows his eyes at him and pulls himself back to his feet. “Now will you please  _ follow me _ to my apartment so I can try to  _ help you _ , you stupid bastard.” 

___

“And  _ then- _ ” Jason takes a deep breath through his mouthful of grilled cheese. Bruce was still sitting across from him in the kitchen, watching the young boy eat and chat animatedly. He forgot how lively Jason could be sometimes. It felt like Jason’s childhood was always marred by anger and resentment. Filled with tantrums, slammed doors, and biting words.

But there were also… These times. When Jason would talk and talk and talk. Bruce had forgotten about them, and he now wonders if that was because he was hardly ever around for them. The thought makes him painfully sad, so he buries it away and schools his face into a small grin. It wasn’t hard to do. 

“ _ That’s _ what Prometheus is about.” Jason finally concludes. “It’s with that guy Michael Fassbender. Y’know the one who was naked in that movie.”

Bruce frowns, “Naked? What movies are you watching with a naked actor-”

Jason rolls his eyes, “Oh chillax B, it’s not like I’ve never seen a dick before.” 

Bruce snaps, “ _ Language.” _ Before he can stop himself. Jason’s entire face curls into a wicked grin and he says, 

“Did you just scold me for saying my brother’s  _ name _ . Because I can not  _ wait _ to tell this to Dickhead.”

Bruce is so overwhelmed to hear Jason freely refer to Dick as his brother, he cannot contain the laughter that bursts from his chest. He cups a hand over his mouth and cackles - loud and unbidden, and in mere seconds Jason joins him as well. The boy looks a bit surprised himself to hear the loud laughter from the usually quiet man. 

“Jason,” Bruce says quietly once they quiet. Jason continues attacking his late night dinner. 

_ We need to talk. You’re not supposed to be here. We need to contain you until we can figure out if you’re a threat to the time stream. You don’t belong here _ . 

The words sit like ice on his tongue. Bruce can see Alfred leaning against the doorway to the kitchen - slowly wiping his hands with a dishtowel, and just watching the whole scene with rapt focus. Bruce does not have to see him to imagine the small, hopeful smile on his face. The smile he would always have on whenever Bruce sat with one of the kids in a quiet moment like this. 

_ You do belong here, actually, which is why this is so hard. You see, Jason, I love you immeasurably, and this version of you was taken from me so quickly. Now, you’re a grown man, and rather than tell you how proud I am of you, I berate you. I am so afraid of losing you again that I have pushed you so far from both me, and Alfred. You belong here, and when this whole thing is fixed, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. _

It all sits there in his chest. Jason continues chewing. He lifts his eyebrows and shrugs in a silent ‘ _ what? _ ’. Bruce clears his throat and clenches his fist on his lap. 

“I wanted to ask how it ever went with Susan.” He says, like a coward. Looking down at his lap and fighting off a growing smile, “Weren’t you going to ask her to go to the movies with you.” 

Jason’s face turns a wonderfully hilarious shade of red. His eyes double in size. 

“How’d you know about that! Did Alfie tell you!? Alfie you promised!” He shrieks. Bruce holds his mouth, tries not to laugh too loudly. Alfred, from the doorway, tuts, 

“Oh, Master Jason, I was only trying to help.” They’re skating thin ice right now, and Bruce knows it. They’re playing into this fantasy that they’ve somehow transported 15 years into the past, but it won’t last. 

_ “Just more time.” _ Alfred had said. Had pleaded. Bruce understands. 

“You guys are the  _ worst _ and I’m so over her.” Jason says with such finality. “She was talkin’ shit about Wonder Woman. Can you imagine? No fu- _ dging _ taste.” He says slowly, looking at Bruce hesitantly. The older man rolls his eyes. 

“Well then if she has no taste, I’m sure she would’ve accepted your invitation to a date.” Bruce slowly sips the tea that had been cooling in front of him. Jason sputters. Within a second the young boy tosses one of his uneaten pickles at Bruce’s forehead. Alfred laughs so loudly, even Jason startles. 

“Well, it’s getting late, son.” Bruce says while standing. “Head up to bed-”

“Aren’t we going out on patrol?” Jason replies. He looks as confused as he does hurt, “You didn’t… Go out without me, did you?”

“No.” Bruce says quickly. “No, I had some things to do with the Justice League. But anyways, no patrolling tonight. Batgirl and Nightwing will handle it for us. You need to get some rest, you haven't been sleeping well lately.” 

“I never sleep well.” Jason replies with a shrug. 

“I  _ know _ , Jason and I…”  _ I should’ve noticed. I should’ve helped you. I should’ve sat up, nights like this, and told you I have nightmares too. _ “I think you just need to rest tonight.” 

Eventually Jason mozies his way to bed. He sings some explicit song under his breath and yawns every other word. Bruce watches him walk through the manor with such ease and familiarity. It feels like there’s a hole in his chest. Gaping and unforgiving, and so torturously happy. Alfred is at his side, watching with him, when he says, 

“Well… How should we break this news to him.” He sounds as resigned and determined as he usually does. Bruce admires him all the more for it. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll run some tests on him to make sure he’s actually him-”

“Already done, sir.” Alfred replies. When Bruce turns to him with a raised brow, the butler harrumphs, 

“I am not so naive to let in a de-aged Robin without first going through the precautions of making sure he isn’t a danger. When I served him his dinner, I took a saliva sample from his fork. He is 100% Master Jason, but he is also 100% ten years old.”

Bruce hums in thought. 

“Well… Tomorrow is a new day, we’ll figure out what… To do.” 

“Certainly… There is nothing wrong with reminiscing for a few hours.” Alfred says softly. Bruce nods. 

“I...” He feels silly for asking. For even wondering about the past this way. Alfred waits as patiently as ever. Finally Bruce sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. He says, 

“I don’t remember it being this easy with him.”

Alfred chuckles under his breath, “It hardly ever was, sir. Jason always had your penchant for stubbornness, and an avid knowledge of precisely how to push your buttons. He was not unlike yourself, Master Bruce, at that age.” 

Bruce raised his eyebrows, “I think I said ‘fuck’ around you  _ once _ and then you scrubbed my mouth with soap. There is no  _ way _ I was that unruly.” 

Alfred sighs, “You forget, sir, that Jason’s anger was not from recklessness, nor rebellion. It was from such a deep, unfathomable loneliness. Just as yours always was - and still on occasion - is. You were just as unruly. You just didn’t cuss as much.” 

Alfred begins to walk away, leaving Bruce in his stunned silence. 

He never thought about this often. Never really analyzed the depths of Jason’s misfortunes, or his own failings as a parent. He never thought about his harsh words to the young boy in light of the fact he, himself, was terrified of losing Jason. Constantly afraid that Jason’s sadness would overcome him. That he’d run off, at hardly 19, to travel the world fighting petty criminals and being trained by the masters in the fields of vigilantism. 

He wants to call to Alfred:  _ How did you do it? _ But what does it really matter now. Alfred had gone through it, and Bruce had eventually come home. 

Jason, on the other hand, never has. 

___ 

“This is where you live?” Bruce asks as he walks into Jason’s apartment. The younger (well, physically speaking younger, though not necessarily literally at the moment) scoffed. 

“Funny that’s exactly what you said to me the first…” Jason shakes his head, and waves off the intruding memories. This apartment was certainly better off than the one Bruce first saw. For one, there’s actual furniture. 

“Alright so I’m assuming this has something to do with magic. Maybe the speed force. Either way, it’s a general rule you’re not supposed to fuck with anything while you’re here or it can like screw with your timeline. Or I mean go for it.” Jason shrugs. He leans into his discolored refrigerator and pulls out a beer for himself, “Maybe you can stop all our lives from going to shit.” 

“Wouldn’t it also count as ‘fucking with things’ if you told me… Any of this stuff.” Bruce replies. Jason shrugs, 

“I mean, maybe.”

“You’re… Very unconcerned about this.” 

“Y’see, Brucie,” Jason sighs. He walks slowly from the kitchen to the living room where Bruce is still standing like he’s prepared to bolt. His eyes dart around the room, his fists clenched, and his entire body leaning forward ever so slightly. He looks like a flight risk, and Jason is struck by the way he feels so familiar, suddenly. “In our line of work, this stuff isn’t necessarily  _ un _ common. In my experience it’s just best to roll with it, and hope for the best.” 

Bruce frowns, “I certainly didn’t teach you that.” Jason actually laughs at that one. He sits on an armchair - cringing slightly at the unhealed injuries which still line his back and side after a night out. 

“Nah, but I still learned it from you.” Jason replies. 

Bruce doesn’t seem to be listening. He continues eyeing the room with scrutinizing paranoia. Jason continues to sip slowly at his beer, waiting until the man  _ finally _ takes a seat on the weathered couch Jason had found off the street. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” He says suddenly. He turns to Jason with narrowed eyes, “Why are you a Red Hood? Why would  _ any _ kid of mine resort so  _ low-” _

“The Red Hood gang isn’t really a thing anymore.” Jason explains. He waves his beer around. “The Red Hood  _ himself _ he… Well. For the sake of preserving time, and all, I’ll just say he… Turned into something else.” 

Bruce nods slowly, “But the Red Hood must still carry negative connotations-” 

“No, it…” Jason sits up, trying to think of the words to clarify his point. “The Red Hood - well what the Red Hood became - he… Took something from me. And I wanted to take it back. Make it my own.” Jason stares at one of the legs of his coffee table. There are some chew marks from some rodent Jason does not want to think about living in his home. 

“Interesting.” Bruce says simply. “You don’t feel like by taking on his mantle you’re actually just… Giving in to what he would want? Being his agent?”

“I also wear this.” Jason snaps. He uses his beer to motion to the bat on his chest. He grumbles, “I stand for this. The  _ hood _ … It reminds me of where I’ve been. Of who I am. The man who wore the hood first… The one who… Hurt me.” Jason swallows. He wasn’t prepared for this conversation - one he’s had countless times with random, and uninterested bar patrons who were probably more asleep than awake, and of course his favorite gargoyles - to hurt. 

“He frightens me. Still does. Probably always will. I wanted to take that fear and use it… I don’t know, make something good out of it.” 

Jason takes a swig of his drink and looks up. Bruce’s blue eyes are boring into him. Seeing right through him the way they always do. Jason laughs to himself and says conversationally, “You would know something about that, wouldn’t you? You know with the…” He points again to the bat symbol. Bruce furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head in question. Jason laughs, “Alright, not there yet. Forget I said anything.” 

They sit in silence for longer. Jason takes slow sips of his beer and racks his mind for things to do. He should call Alfred. Yeah, he should  _ definitely _ call Alfred.

“I’m gonna call Alfred.”

As he’s pulling out his phone Bruce gives a derisive sort of snort and goes, “Don’t.” 

Jason freezes. He’s never heard Bruce sound like that when talking about  _ Alfred _ . When he was talking about Jason  _ sure _ , but never Alfred. 

“Why?” Jason asks. 

Bruce sits back on the couch. He crosses his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes. It all feels incredibly juvenile, and Jason has to refrain from scolding him for it. 

“I don’t need Alfred to solve my problems. I don’t want to see the manor, I don’t want to see Alfred. Let’s just figure this shit out ourselves. You’re my future son, right? You must have some sort of equipment-”

“You  _ don’t need _ Alfred?” Jason says through a shocked laugh. He only laughs harder when Bruce’s frown deepens. Eventually the latter had enough (which, as per expected did not take long), and he snapped,

“What? I’ve been on my  _ own _ these past few years. I was declared  _ dead _ . I came back to Gotham to be a symbol - to  _ help _ people - my _ self _ . I don’t need an old butler who stays around because I sign his checks-”

“Oh  _ fuck you _ .” Jason’s laughter cuts off as quickly as his temper rises. He slams his beer onto the coffee table - nearly shattering it. “Fuck you for implying Alfred’s only in this for the money. That he doesn’t love your dumbass-”

“What does love have to do with anything?” Bruce snarls. He narrows his eyes at Jason now; the way a cornered animal growls at its captors, “He was  _ hired _ to love me. If that could even  _ count _ as love. The second my parents died I lost all the family I ever had, and I’m not about to run around with the help of a stogie old man who lives in a mausoleum like a  _ coward-” _

Jason, without really thinking, suddenly has Bruce by the collar and is slamming him against his wall. One of his framed posters (it was an antique, thank you very much) falls off the wall. Bruce groans and begins to fight back, but Jason is shocked to find he’s stronger. 

“Alfred is no  _ coward _ . And if you think for one second that man ever loved you just because your parents hired him to change your fucking diapers proves to me you have  _ no _ idea who that man is, and no  _ right _ to say anything.” Jason pushes him against the wall again - startling Bruce from his attempts to escape his hold (it was a move Bruce himself had taught Jason). 

“And what do you think you’re impressive for running away? Your rich mom and dad die so poor little brat has to go off and find himself? Has to push away the only family you ever  _ really had? Fuck you-” _

Jason knew his upper hand on Bruce wouldn’t last long. They tumble to the floor of the apartment. Bruce punches him in the abdomen, and Jason gets a solid hit against his jaw. 

“I  _ had _ a family!” Bruce shouts in his face. Jason wrestles him until he’s on top again, holding Bruce down by his shoulders. He shouts back, 

“You have  _ memories! _ ”

“Then that’s all I need!” 

“ _ IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE!”  _ Jason’s shout is followed by silence. Bruce looks up at him. His eyes narrowed. His mouth in a firmly set line. “For fucks sake you… You have this person in your life that loves unconditionally… Who loves  _ you _ . Who cares about  _ you _ , who hopes you get home safe every night, who supports you through all this  _ shit _ , who may not be the best at saying it with words sometimes but fuck if you can’t just  _ pick up what he’s trying to say _ , why can’t you just…” 

Jason trails off. He eventually pulls away from Bruce and sits beside him. His arms resting on his bent knees. He stares hard at the stained wallpaper of his stupid little apartmnet. The apartment that looks so much like the place Bruce first found him. Sure it has furniture, but the furniture's been eaten by rats. The furniture's come off the streets just like Jason did, and maybe that’s why it makes him feel safe. 

(Bruce offered him his old room in the manor. Of course he had. Why would he do anything else)

“You’ve got a hell of a fucking temper.” Jason says under his breath. 

“Well then at least you know where  _ you _ got it.” Bruce bites back. 

___ 

While Jason slept, Bruce went out to patrol. Despite the bizarre circumstances of his home-life, he wouldn’t let himself get too distracted. He handled a few petty crimes getting out of hand in Old Gotham, then followed up on some leads with Spoiler. 

It was almost dawn when things took a turn for the worse. He happened to run into Bane, and while the extenuating circumstances warrant further investigation, the only thing his brain can really process at the moment was the fact he had initiated the emergency protocol of the batmobile, and the car was careening into the cave of its own accord. Alfred was already waiting in the cave with his medical supplies, and Bruce could only cough up a handful of blood before falling boneless onto an operating table. 

“How am I?” Bruce eventually groans an hour later, once Alfred had finished patching him up. In terms of run-ins with Bane, Bruce considered this a calculated success in that he was fully conscious and - despite Alfred’s complaints - able to walk up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“You need to rest, sir-”

“And I  _ will _ , just give me a-”

“You went out.” A quiet voice suddenly snaps. Bruce looks up and is initially shocked to see a small frame standing at the far side of the hall. “You went out and you almost died.”

“I didn't almost  _ die _ , Jason.” Bruce replies, trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice. 

“You almost died and you lied. You said we weren’t going  _ out _ .” Jason’s voice was reaching a dangerous low. Bruce was struck with a memory so strongly, he nearly stumbled.  _ Jason’s voice always gets low before he begins to shout _ . 

“Jason, you need to rest-”

“You nearly  _ died _ and you  _ lied!” _ He’s shouting now. His fists clenched and his eyes on fire. From behind Bruce, Alfred tutts, 

“Master Jason, I assure you I already reprimanded him enough-”

“No you didn’t!” Jason shouts, “I saw you in the cave! You couldn’t even  _ move _ and Alfred had to put you all back together again like he  _ always does _ and-and I wish he would just let you die already!” And with that, Jason turns and runs into his room. He slams his door closed, and once again, Bruce is hit with the memory of that same door making that same noise, all those years ago. 

Alfred sighs. So does Bruce. They walk him to his bedroom, and Alfred helps him out of his robe. Bruce, in the scratchy pajamas he leaves in the cave for circumstances such as this, climbs into his bed and stares up at the ceiling. 

_ We’ll get this fixed in a matter of hours. _

_ Please give me more time with him.  _

_ He showed up… Looking for you.  _

Certain Alfred was back in his own quarters, Bruce stands and breathes through the sharp pain which nearly consumes him. He takes his robe from the back of his bedroom door and begins a slow, calculated limp to the bedroom on the opposite wing of the house.

He knocks once, and silence replies. He knocks again and says against the door, 

“Jason… Open up.” 

Bruce hears some shuffling and a disgruntled, “Go’way.” 

“I’m not going away until we can talk.” 

“Don’t wanna talk to you. I hate you.” 

“I’m sure you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to force you to have a conversation with me.” 

Bruce waits for nearly five minutes until Jason decides to let him in. He wasn’t expecting it, frankly, given the boys rampant stubbornness and obsession with locking his doors. 

The door creaks open just hardly, and Bruce waits until he hears Jason’s pattering footsteps return to his bed. He walks in and finds Jason curled up in his bed, under the covers, facing the open window. Dawn was just beginning to break. 

Bruce sits on his bed, making sure to keep his distance. He remembers Jason was never a very affectionate child - utterly unlike Dick who was clingy, and brash, and-

And it’s almost ironic, how it’s only  _ now _ that Bruce realizes even in his subconscious considerations, he compares this time-displaced version of his son to Dick. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Bruce begins. “Nor did I mean to lie to you-”

“I’m not  _ scared _ .” Jason snaps. Bruce can hear the wetness in his voice. “I’m just  _ pissed _ .”

“Hh.” Bruce places his hands on his own lap. He wonders what things would’ve been like if he’d done this back then. When Jason was  _ actually _ this age. Then again when he examines the entire situation what difference would it make? What with Jason curled up in a ball with his back to him, and Bruce never exactly saying the right thing. 

“I used to get pretty angry as a kid.” Bruce says without thinking too much of it, “I’d get so mad I’d stay up all night and… And cry. And miss my parents and hate the world.” 

Jason sniffles. 

“And I used to think… Will I ever  _ not _ be angry? Alfred sent me away to a home once - that was, ironically enough, where I met Harvey Dent - and they tried to teach me how to manage my rage. To control it… But it never worked.”

“I never knew you got sent away.” Jason says so quietly, Bruce wonders if he even meant to at all. 

“I did… I don’t know why I never told you that but, I did. I was so angry. Angry at the world, at Gotham, at Alfred, at… At my parents. I was so angry that they were dead - that they  _ left _ me. And then I was angry at myself for being angry at them.” 

Jason never talked to Bruce at this age. Bruce hardly knew anything about the boy’s life until he had him bugged, wired, or was serendipitously undercover in a bar Jason also happened to be patronning. He should’ve known, of course. He should’ve put the pieces together when he saw Jason’s tears of anger, his burgeoning rage, and his desperate need to be  _ better _ . Better than what - Bruce had never known. He knows now (or at least he thinks he does) Jason always wanted to be better than who he already was. 

Why hadn’t Bruce known? He consoles himself by assuming it was because he was young, and still going through the same trauma Jason was. Hell, he  _ still _ is, but there’s part of him that thinks it was Tim and Damian that helped him see how his own trauma was affecting his children. With Tim’s infinite patience and compassion, and Damian’s admiration and love. 

He’s here now, though, with Jason. The prodigal son who he never listened to. Who he failed. In this cathartic therapy session that will only leave him feeling hollow.  _ But I can’t screw this up again _ , he thinks despite himself. 

“I’ll never leave you, Jason.” He says quietly. Jason sniffles again. 

Just when Bruce is about to leave, Jason sits up. He’s still looking out his window, but at least he’s not buried under his blanket. 

“Everyone leaves me.” Jason whispers. “Everyone goes off and dies and then I’m just here and I’m alone. And yeah I’m  _ angry _ Bruce, I’m so angry all the damn time, because I don’t wanna be alone anymore. I don’t wanna be alone, I just don’t wanna be alone any more-” He bows his head and presses his fists to his eyes, and cries. He sounds so young. Younger than Bruce has ever heard him sound, and he can’t  _ not _ take him by the shoulders and tug him against his chest. 

Jason shakes, and Bruce holds him so tightly he worries he’s hurting him. 

“You’re not. You never will be.” Bruce replies into Jason’s hair. 

“You don’t know that. My dad didn’t know he’d get locked up and die. Neither did my mom. Even though sometimes I think she wanted to. You can just die, and then I’m alone again.” 

Bruce has to shut his eyes. He thinks of the nights he spent in this room, the dawn just breaking over the horizon, and the bed empty. He had just sat here and stared at Jason’s unmoved pillow - willing it to give him answers. Willing the light to change, or his eyes to clear, and then there’d be Jason laying there. 

_ You left me! _ He shouts in his head as Jason continues to cry into his chest,  _ you left  _ me _ you absolute bastard. You were supposed to listen! You were supposed to live! You left  _ me! __

“I know you don’t believe me now,” Bruce says, “but even if I happen to die one of these nights. You’ll still… You’ll have a family. You always will. I know he can be hard on you, but Dick loves you immensely. Alfred loves you. Even Barbara.”

Jason laughs. It's watery, and kind of sad, but it makes Bruce smile all the same, “Babs hates me.” 

“No, you’re just a pest sometimes.” 

“Yeah…” 

Bruce holds Jason. “You’ll never be alone again. I promise. Even when you think you are, and you go out there into the world and you’re angry, you’re not alone. You’re not on Crime Alley anymore. You left a long, long time ago. And you won’t go back, I promise.” 

___

“I died that night. Here, in Crime Alley.” Bruce says. He’s sat on the floor with his back propped up against Jason’s couch. Jason sits across him, against the coffee table. They pass a beer back and forth between the two of them. “I feel like I’ve just been walking around like a zombie ever since.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling.” Jason mumbles to himself. He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, “But you didn’t die Bruce. Your parents did, and I’m sorry about that, alright. My parents died when I was pretty young, too. It sucks, man. It really truly sucks. But letting it eat away at you like this…” What is Jason supposed to say? All the advice he never listens to himself? 

Bruce just sighs. He looks around the room and slowly he begins to chuckle, “Well… Apparently I did a pretty shit job with my kids considering you live like…  _ This _ .” 

His chuckle grows louder. Jason joins in. 

“Yeah we don’t uh… Well, we’re not really on the best of terms.” Jason shrugs. Bruce looks at him, affronted. 

“Really? That… That’s sad.” 

“I guess, I dunno. I have brothers and I always kinda thought you liked them all better than me.”  _ You’re saying too much, idiot _ , the part of his mind that sounds so annoyingly like older Bruce reprimands. Jason shrugs off the thought. Part of him kind of hopes maybe things will change if he says this now. A small, fragile part of him, just wants to say it out loud. To have Bruce hear. 

“I don't choose favorites.” Bruce says simply, as if that fixed it all. “If you’re my kid, I care about you. Though I always considered myself more of a loner.” 

Jason scoffs, “Yeah you still try to pull that whole schtick off.”

They share their beer and watch the sunrise. Eventually, Bruce says, 

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean that about Alfred.” 

Jason nods, “Trust me I’ve said much worse about you.”

Bruce hums. “Did you ever mean it?” 

With a level of finality that startles him, Jason replies, “Never.” 

___

_ “They’re not even physically in this time period.” J’onn says through the bat computer. He sounds relieved. “They’re just visages of history. Zatanna can have the spell reversed in another hour.” _

_ Bruce nods once.  _

___ 

They’re sitting at breakfast. Jason is pushing his eggs around his plate and yawning so wide Bruce can practically see down his throat. 

“Cover your mouth, kid.” He says. Playfully stern. Jason opens his mouth even wider and sticks out his tongue. 

“Oh, Master Jason.” Alfred sighs as he walks into the room. Jason cackles. 

“Hey, Jay…” Bruce says with his mug pressed to his lips, “It’s been a while since you and I went to the movies, right? I thought maybe after school you and I could go.” 

Jason brightens like someone switched him on - but quickly (too quickly) he schools his expression into something apathetic. He shrugs, looking down at his plate, and mutters, “Yeah, that sounds cool.” 

He never wanted to show he was too happy. Bruce never knew why, and he still doesn’t. He supposed it was a defense mechanism, but he’s beginning to suspect he’s defending himself against... himself. 

“Good. I’ll pick you up.” 

Jason smiles down at his plate. Bites his bottom lip to keep it contained. 

He hears the grandfather clock in the main corridor chime. He reaches over and holds the back of Jason’s head - just running his fingers through the soft hair there. He notices, like a stab, there’s no scar. 

He ruffles the boys head and says so quietly, he may just be speaking to himself; 

“I love you, son.” 

Bruce closes his eyes and when he opens them again, his hand is lingering in the air, and Jason is gone. 

___

Bruce is gone. He fades away right before Jason’s eyes. Jason begins to tremble. 

_ Please no, _ he begs,  _ not the hallucinations again. Please no, please  _ please _ no. _

___ 

_ Batman to ALL:  _

_ Enchantress casted a charm on the entire planet at about 0800 yesterday. If you met or interacted with any time-displaced individuals, do not be concerned. The visages were nothing more than elaborate illusions - most of them coming from about 15 years ago. The situation is handled and fixed now.  _

_ Nightwing to ALL:  _

_ Gotcha. Lemme tell you tiny me was a JERK. Hahahaha.  _

_ Spoiler to ALL:  _

_ No way!!!! I didn’t see anyone!!!!!! No fair!!!!! _

_ Batwing to ALL:  _

_ Little me was DOPE.  _

_ Batman to ALL:  _

_ For the hundredth time. This chat is for business,  _ **_ONLY_ ** _.  _

_ Red Robin to ALL: _

_ How did…. How did he bold a text?!  _

_ ___ _

_ New text from Bruce:  _

_ I was wondering if you were in the area tonight.  _

_ To Bruce: _

_ like on patrol ?  _

_ New text from Bruce: _

_ Sure.  _

_ New text from Bruce:  _

_ I wanted to know if you wanted to grab burgers. _

_ To Bruce: _

_ busy.  _

Jason looks down at his phone for a while. Just staring at the screen. For some reason all he could hear in his head was young Bruce’s quick, careless, and utterly fulfilling  _ ‘I don't pick favorites’ _ . As if it was that easy. Maybe it is. 

_ To Bruce: _

_ i wouldnt say no to some of alfred’s pancakes tho _

_ New text from Bruce:  _

_ Great. See you at the manor at noon _ . 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on [tumblr!](https://kree-lar.tumblr.com)


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